


Blame It On the Mistletoe

by AgtSpooky



Category: Strike Back
Genre: Christmas, First Time, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 18:13:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13105767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgtSpooky/pseuds/AgtSpooky
Summary: All Michael and Damien want for Christmas is each other. But will either of them have the courage to take the first step before it's too late and they run out of second chances?





	Blame It On the Mistletoe

 

 

**DECEMBER 23**

 

Fat, white snowflakes swirled around Damien Scott in the cold, crisp winter air as he stepped wearily off the ramp of the military transport plane and onto the tarmac. He flipped up the collar on his brown leather jacket against the chill, his breath crystallizing before him in small puffs as he exhaled. He stopped, set down his kit bag and held up his wrist into the lights from the plane behind him to check the time—10:02 p.m.

 

His Section 20 teammates and support personnel flowed down the ramp and around him like water, their animated conversations washing over him—excited and grateful the mission had ended and they'd made it home for Christmas. Damien gave an exhausted sigh and gingerly touched his temple. He was lucky he'd made it back at all.

 

A tall figure stepped up beside him and he turned to glance over at Michael Stonebridge. His partner looked as tired as he felt. Without a word, Damien picked up his kit bag and he and Michael walked off the tarmac and onto the base.

 

Damien tried to avert his gaze from the multitude of Christmas decorations and colored lights that lined the street leading to the section of base housing and the front gates. They were meant to give off a feeling of joy and happiness but just depressed Damien instead. It wasn't like he had any family to spend Christmas with, even if he went back home to Detroit for his post-mission leave he was now on for the next week. His parents and brothers had all turned their backs on him when he was dishonorably discharged all those years ago, believing he was a drug smuggler. And since he had burned the proof that he was innocent and had been set up, he would always remain a disgraced soldier in their eyes. He tried not to think of his family on any regular basis, but the holidays were the hardest to get through without them intruding.

 

Damien paused at the cross street that would take him off to the right, toward base housing, while Michael would continue on through the main gates and eventually home on the outskirts of London.

 

He blew out another breath. An uncharacteristic wave of loneliness settled over him, the prospect of going back alone to his cold, empty apartment on base holding no appeal. He turned to Michael, his partner staring vacantly ahead of him, looking much the same as Damien, for the much the same reason. It would be the first Christmas without Kerry.

 

Aware of Damien's gaze, Michael returned it, his hazel eyes searching Damien's face, snowflakes dropping silently onto his short, sandy brown hair and the shoulders of his olive green bomber jacket.

 

"Fancy a nightcap at my place?" Michael asked quietly.

 

Damien tipped his head, reading between the lines, his partner's question code for: _I don't really want to be alone and I don't think you want to be, either, mate._

 

Damien nodded, grateful for his friend's offer. "Yeah, I do."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The taxi ride to Michael's house was silent, both men lost in their own thoughts as they stared out the windows in the back seat. Damien tried once again to ignore the signs of Christmas joy throughout London, serving only to depress him further. He wasn't looking forward to tomorrow night, when he would be required to put on a happy face. Section 20 was on the roster to help out at the annual Christmas party for the families who had members deployed and couldn't be home for the holiday. It was a great thing for the military to do, but it was going to be a chore to get through.

 

Damien glanced sideways at Michael. For both of them. Michael being around all those children was going to be difficult for him after all that he had lost.

 

The taxi let them off and back out into the snow in front of Michael's small row house a short time later. Michael fished his key out of his pocket, unlocked the door and let them both inside. He flipped on the small light in the entrance and led them down the short hallway toward the semi-dark living room, where they both came to an abrupt halt, spying a dark shape looming in the corner, next to the sofa, in front of the main window.

 

Instinctively believing it was a threat, an intruder, Damien slapped on the lights, dropping his kit bag, tensing for a fight, only to huff out a surprised breath at what he saw—a Christmas tree.

 

"Dude, when did you put up a tree?" he asked, knowing they'd been gone for the last four weeks.

 

Michael shook his head, apparently as surprised as Damien to see it in his living room. "I didn't," he answered. Then a small smile crossed his face. "Mrs. McCarthy."

 

"Who?"

 

"Mrs. McCarthy," Michael said again. "She's my neighbor. Sweet lady. She stops over and checks on the place for me when I'm deployed." He paused. "Since no one's here all the time now."

 

Michael's voice held a hint of sadness and Damien squeezed his shoulder.

 

Michael cleared his throat and walked into the living room, set his own kit bag down next to the sofa and took off his jacket. He picked up the pile of mail off the side table that Mrs. McCarthy must gather up for him from the floor of the front hall.

 

It was cold in the house, so as Michael shuffled through the envelopes, Damien shrugged off his jacket and took it upon himself to start a fire in the fireplace. As he coaxed the flames to life, Michael disappeared for a minute, to return with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Damien moved over to the tree and turned on the lights, taking a moment to appreciate Mrs. McCarthy's gesture for his partner. The tree was decorated beautifully with red bows, silver ornaments, shiny garland, soft white lights and a silver star adorning the top.

 

He was hit by a sense of nostalgia, looking at the tree. He remembered his childhood, before his parents divorced and his family fell apart, of he and his brothers lying on the floor in the darkened living room, looking up at the lights on the tree. How peaceful it was.

 

Without thinking, he moved back toward the hallway and turned off the light there and in the living room, bathing the space in the soft glow of the Christmas lights and the fire. He caught Michael's eye and his partner gave him a small smile and nod.

 

They settled themselves on the thick, plush rug in front of the fireplace, leaning their backs against the sofa, shoulders just touching. Michael handed Damien a glass and filled it halfway with the amber liquid before filling his own.

 

Damien held his glass out to Michael, his voice soft but strong. "To friends. And partners."

 

Michael nodded, his eyes holding a weight of seriousness, acknowledging the underlying meaning in Damien's words. He touched his glass to Damien's. "To friends. And partners."

 

They drank in silence, watching the dancing flames and the snow falling outside the window. One glass became two, became three, the contents of the bottle steadily dwindling, Damien relaxing in proportion with the amount of alcohol he was consuming, the whiskey spreading a pleasant warmth throughout him.

 

He could feel the heat from Michael's body, so close beside him, becoming more aware by the minute of his partner's close proximity, and his own body's reaction to him. A familiar, unfulfilled desire.

 

Michael poured the last of the whiskey in Damien's glass. His voice was quiet. "You've got your kit," he said. "You're welcome to stay the night."

 

Going back to his cold, dark apartment now held even less appeal than it did earlier, so Damien nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks."

 

A log popped loudly in the fireplace, eerily similar to a gunshot and Damien started at the sound, immediately transported back to the jungle two days ago. He once again touched the bullet graze on his temple that was still an angry red line against his skin. He could feel the residual after effects of the mission coming back up on him, of what they'd gone through, how close it had been this time.

 

He swallowed thickly. "Thank you, Mike."

 

His partner's brow furrowed. "For what?"

 

"For saving my life. If you hadn't been there, I wouldn't be here right now."

 

Damien saw the flash of fear in Michael's hazel eyes, the same flash he had seen in the jungle when he found Damien down on his knees, a gun pointed at his head.

 

"I'll always be there for you, mate," Michael said quietly.

 

The atmosphere was suddenly charged, as if with a low electrical current, running just under Damien's skin. Maybe it was the alcohol or the heightened emotions that caused them to lean closer to one another, the backs of their hands brushing. Damien's heart slammed against his chest as he saw the same desire reflected back in Michael's expression. But just as Damien tilted his head, his eyes beginning to slide closed, Michael suddenly shifted back, pulling away.

 

Damien blinked as Michael pushed himself to his feet, his movement stilted, jerky.

 

"I'm knackered," Michael said, voice rough, looking away from Damien. "I'll see you in the morning."

 

Damien could only watch as Michael turned, left the room and walked quickly up the stairs.

 

He sat unmoving in front of the fire, confused thoughts tumbling through his head until long after the flames had burned themselves out.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**DECEMBER 24**

 

The morning dawned clear and bright as Michael padded down the upstairs hallway wearing just his pale blue sleep pants. He paused by the open guest bedroom door and looked inside. The bed was rumpled and Damien's kit bag was open and on the floor. He heard movement downstairs at the same time the scent of cooking breakfast wafted up the stairway.

 

Michael made his way down and found his partner in the small kitchen, standing in front of the stove, a mess around him on the counters, the smell of frying bacon in the air. Damien was barefoot, wearing only a pair of maroon sweatpants slung low on his hips. Michael hesitated at the sight, a flutter in his stomach both from attraction and uneasiness at how he had left things last night.

 

He swallowed and cleared his throat. "What's all this, mate?"

 

Damien turned, holding a spatula. There was a brief pause of awkwardness as he looked at Michael that then disappeared with his quick smile.

 

"Breakfast, dude. What's it look like?"

 

Michael exhaled, releasing the tense breath he didn't realize he was holding, and returned the smile. "Tosser. I know what it is, but where did it come from? I cleaned out the refrigerator before we deployed."

 

Damien shrugged. "I ran out early, picked up a few things."

 

Michael's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

 

He stepped closer as Damien turned back to the bacon, realizing from everything else on the stove what his partner was making—a full English. His favorite. Which Damien knew thanks to Kerry telling him all those months ago.

 

Michael's expression softened at the gesture. He clasped Damien's shoulder warmly in thanks and Damien just nodded, nothing needing to be said. The tea kettle whistled and Michael smiled. His partner had thought of everything.

 

"Get your tea, some juice for me and sit your ass down," Damien told him. "I've been slaving over this."

 

Michael grinned as he poured the hot water into his favorite rugby team mug and dropped in an English Breakfast tea bag. He took the mug over to the table and set it down as Damien began plating the food. He stepped over to the refrigerator, opened the door and chuckled at the contents—orange juice and beer. He had a feeling that's what Damien's own fridge looked like.

 

He grabbed the juice and poured his partner a glass just as Damien set two full plates of piping hot breakfast on the table. Michael's mouth watered at the sight and smell, more than impressed both that Damien could cook and that he knew all that went into a full English. He hadn't missed anything.

 

Michael picked up his fork and knife and cut into the sausage. "This looks delicious."

 

And it was. Michael savored every bite of the entire meal, having eaten nearly nothing but MREs for the last month. Damien looked just as happy, shoveling in forkfuls of beans and sopping up egg yolks with toast.

 

In appreciation for Damien's thoughtfulness, Michael did the dishes as his partner straightened up the kitchen. Clean-up done a short time later, they went back upstairs to shower and dress. Michael let Damien use the bathroom first, and by the time Michael was done he found his partner back downstairs, comfortably ensconced on the sofa in jeans and light grey t-shirt, flipping channels on the telly, yelling at a contestant on a trivia game program, showing no inclinations to leave.

 

And Michael was happy to have him here. He was glad he'd asked Damien to come home with him last night. He was sure Damien thought it was because his first holiday without Kerry would be difficult for him, that he didn't want to be alone. And that was partially true. But he'd also nearly lost Damien two days ago and just wanted to be near his partner after their close call. And from the look on Damien's face last night, he didn't want to be alone, either. But probably for different reasons.

 

Michael wondered if Damien thought about his family during this time of year, and that's what had brought on his melancholy. He wondered how much about Damien's life they even knew, as he rarely mentioned them.

 

Watching his partner talking animatedly to the telly, he was glad Damien was in a better mood today, even after how abruptly Michael had left things between them last night. He forcibly pushed away the reasons why and joined Damien on the sofa, concentrating on just enjoying the day with his partner.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They spent the morning and afternoon watching sports, both football and cricket. Football would never be Damien's sport, at least the UK version, but he got into the game nevertheless and cheered and yelled for Michael's team.

 

They ordered curry takeaway for lunch and drank beer as Michael attempted to explain the rules of cricket to his partner. Which was an absolute lost cause. Michael couldn't help but laugh as Damien grew increasingly bewildered at the sport until he snatched the remote from Michael's hand and found something much more up his alley—Die Hard.

 

Michael couldn't argue with his choice and for the next hour they cheered on John McClane as he blew shit up and took out the bad guys—something they could both easily relate to.

 

They were both smiling when the movie ended and Michael decided it was a perfect time to give Damien his Christmas gift. He excused himself and went upstairs, removing the brightly wrapped gift from his dresser drawer and took it back down with him.

 

Damien's face lit up like a little kid's when he saw the present and Michael grinned and shook his head.

 

"Happy Christmas, mate," he said, handing over the gift.

 

"Ah, man, thanks, buddy!" Damien replied as he tore off the paper. Then he was laughing uproariously at the Star Trek box set he held in his hands, but Michael could tell he was touched that he had remembered Damien was a closet Trekkie.

 

"This is great, seriously," Damien said. "My place on Friday for a Mr. Scott marathon."

 

Michael chuckled. "Sounds perfect."

 

Damien set the DVDs on the sofa. "Hang on a second," he told Michael and jogged up the stairs. When he came back he was holding a flat, wrapped envelope in his hands, which he gave to Michael as he sat back down.

 

"Glad I decided to put this in my kit and bring it with me in case we were still stuck in the jungle," he said, then pointed at the gift. His voice went quiet. "Go on. Open it."

 

Curious, and frankly surprised that his partner had thought to get him anything, Michael removed the wrapping paper and opened the envelope. He withdrew a map of the west coast of the United States. Completely confused, Michael looked back up at Damien.

 

"I thought we could take a trip together," Damien explained, his voice still quiet. "Just the two of us and a pair of bikes. Get away from it all for awhile. What do you think?"

 

Now it was Michael who was touched. He could tell the gift had a deeper meaning and he felt a sudden shift in the air, just like last night.

 

He nodded slowly, looking directly into Damien's bright blue eyes. "I'd like that," he said softly.

 

The moment hung in the air, suspended in the afternoon light and Michael once again felt the inexorable pull toward his partner. He wondered if he could stop it this time. Wondered if he should.

 

But the decision was taken out of his hands as Damien broke the moment, pushing himself up and off the couch. He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. "I gotta get going."

 

Michael nodded, relived he didn't have to make the choice, knowing Damien truly did need to leave. He had to get back to his flat and change into his uniform for the party in a few hours.

 

"Yeah…I'll see you tonight."

 

A few minutes later Damien was gone, out into the brisk winter afternoon, leaving Michael sitting on the sofa, staring thoughtfully down at the map.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Thanks to spending the day relaxing with Michael, Damien was in a better mood and headspace when he arrived at the party on base several hours later. He felt more prepared for the onslaught of Christmas cheer he was about to be immersed in.

 

Which happened the moment he opened the door to the main hall. The vast space was crowded, people moving about, talking, holding cups of punch or eggnog, some in uniform like himself, others not—the family members the party was being held for.

 

Christmas carols played over the speakers throughout the room, though not loud enough to disturb the many conversations happening. Long rows of tables along one wall were filled with food and drinks—everything from cheese and crackers to whole turkeys to pumpkin pie and cookies. The tables along the opposite wall were filled with people sitting and enjoying the Christmas feast.

 

The entire atmosphere was festive, the hall decorated with lights and garland and strategically placed sprigs of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling near the corners of the room. Under one of them a couple was currently partaking in the tradition, caught in a kiss.

 

The main attraction was the large Christmas tree in the center of the hall, around which dozens of children ran and played, eagerly awaiting the arrival of Santa Claus shortly. Their laughter mixed with the carols and Damien couldn't help but smile.

 

Damien moved over to the table with the "adult" version of the eggnog and a young woman, a sergeant like himself, but from a different division, poured him a cup and wished him a Merry Christmas. Damien took a sip and his eyebrows rose at the generously spiked beverage.

 

He took a minute to look around as he drank. He spied various teammates of his from Twenty, talking and mingling, plus dozens more uniformed men and women he had never met. Even though he had been with Twenty for quite some time now, standing here by himself he once again felt like an outsider—an American wearing a British uniform.

 

He was pulled from his thoughts when something hit his leg. He looked down to see a pink and purple rubber ball at his feet, its small owner running after it, laughing. Damien grinned as he saw the little girl, all dressed up in a green and white dress, coming his way. But then she tripped, her patent leather shoes slipping on the tile floor and she fell to her hands and knees. She immediately burst into tears and Damien quickly set down his empty cup and scooped her up, setting her back on her feet and kneeling down next to her.

 

"Hey, hey, it's okay, sweetheart," he reassured her, using his thumb to brush away her tears. He was struck by the similarity in her appearance to the little girl he had protected in India.

 

She sniffled and rubbed at her eyes. Damien held up the rubber ball.

 

"Is this yours?" he smiled.

 

She nodded her head and reached out to take it.

 

"My name's Damien. What's yours?"

 

"Maya," she answered.

 

"That's a pretty name. Are you ready for Santa? I hear he's on his way."

 

At this she broke into a grin, showing off a missing front tooth. She nodded eagerly and took one of Damien's hands. "Let's go!"

 

Damien chuckled and let her lead him over to the tree, where she had him sit down so that she could play catch with him as she waited for Santa. He looked around at all of the other children, sorry that they all had at least one parent who couldn't be there for them on Christmas.

 

Maya ran off for a moment and when she returned she was carrying a Santa hat, which she placed on Damien's head, giggling. Damien wore it good-naturedly, for the sweet little girl.

 

Santa himself arrived a few minutes later, with more than one giant red sack of gifts, and the hall erupted with excited children's voices. Damien couldn't help but smile, and since he was already in the vicinity and apparently dressed for the part with his hat, he helped hand out the gifts to the large group of young boys and girls.

 

After all the presents had been distributed, and among the chaos of shredded wrapping paper and discarded bows, Damien looked across the room to where his partner stood behind the table with the fruit punch, talking with Julia Richmond. He was smiling, relaxed, as they chatted. Julia moved away a minute later and Michael unconsciously stood at parade rest, legs spread, his wrists crossed loosely behind his back. He looked striking in his uniform—broad shoulders and chest, trim waist, muscular arms and legs—the very poster boy for the British military. With their special ops work they rarely had cause to wear their uniforms and Damien once again felt the pull of physical attraction. He cast his eyes upward and realized Michael was staring right at him. And from the look his partner was giving him, the attraction was mutual.

 

So why was Michael fighting it? Like last night.

 

That's why Damien had come up with the idea of a vacation for just the two of them, far away from their life here, to maybe finally explore what was trying to happen between them. Michael would show interest and then back off, confusing Damien with his conflicting signals, making him wonder what was holding Michael back. But he didn't push, realizing his partner obviously needed to work through something. Michael needed to be the one to make the first move, when he was ready. Damien just hoped it was soon. Nearly dying on this last mission had hit home hard how short life could be, especially with the dangerous life they lived. He wanted something with Michael before it was too late and they ran out of second chances.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Michael stood behind the table with the fruit punch, handing out cups, talking with Julia and flicking glances over to his partner. He watched Damien with the kids, wearing the Santa hat, laughing, showing his soft side. There were so many layers to his partner under that smart-ass exterior and Michael wanted to get to know them all.

 

Someone across the room called Julia's name and she excused herself, but not before glancing over her shoulder at Damien, then back to Michael. She gave him a knowing look and a small smile and walked away.

 

Michael looked back to Damien, to see his partner staring back at him. He held Damien's steady gaze, taken in by the sight of him in his uniform. There was no doubt he was attracted to Damien. And he knew the feeling was mutual. But Michael resisted giving in to it. Because he wanted more than a one-night stand with Damien. But was Damien even capable of that? Michael had lost count of the number of women's beds his partner had slid in and out of, never the same one twice. He didn't want to be just another of Damien's conquests, a notch on the bedpost. He wanted more.

 

But did Damien? Could he even give more?

 

Michael was torn. He loved having Damien in his home yesterday and today—waking up with him there, spending the day with him. It felt so…natural. So comfortable. So right. A glimpse into what could possibly be if he took that first step.

 

Then there was Damien asking him to go on holiday together. Was that a sign he wanted more than just a one-off? Maybe this was his way of testing the waters for them both?

 

Michael sighed inwardly, getting nowhere with his internal battle. He turned his head, breaking the connection with Damien, to find Julia moving back over to him. She once again looked to Damien then back to him, searching Michael's face. She shook her head, a hint of exasperation in her dark eyes.

 

"What are you waiting for?"

 

She let her question hang before giving Michael a soft smile and a wink. Then she gently squeezed his arm in silent encouragement and walked away.

 

Michael stared after her, her simple question providing the clarity he had been searching for. What _was_ he waiting for?

 

Damien had nearly been killed two days ago, right before his eyes. If he had been just a fraction of a second slower to take out their target, that bullet wouldn't have just grazed Damien's temple. It would have gone straight through it.

 

It was time to take a chance before it was too late. Before they ran out of second chances. Life was too short. If he lost Damien without ever knowing what might have been, if it could have worked between them, he would regret it for the rest of his life. And if one night was all that he had, he would take that over nothing.

 

Michael took a long, steadying breath, his pulse beginning to race, his heart rate increasing. He needed to do this now, say something now, before he could second-guess himself. But how?

 

Then he caught something out of the corner of his eye and inspiration struck. He moved over toward it, calling out to his partner.

 

"Oi! Scott! Come here, mate!"

 

Damien looked at him curiously, getting to his feet as Michael waved him over.

 

"What's up, Mikey?" Damien asked as he came to a stop in front of Michael.

 

"Wait." Michael took hold of Damien's shoulders and moved him two steps to the right. "Stand right there."

 

Now Damien was looking at him like he'd lost his mind. "Why?"

 

Michael swallowed hard. It was the point of no return. He looked up and Damien followed his gaze to the little green sprig above their heads.

 

"Because if this backfires, I can blame it on the mistletoe," Michael breathed.

 

Then he stepped in close, cupped the side of Damien's face and kissed him.

 

Damien's lips were warm and soft against his own and Michael's heart pounded against his chest at this first, intimate connection. He felt Damien's body go rigid for a split second in shock or surprise, before his partner's arms wound around his back and he pulled Michael to him.

 

Damien increased the pressure of the kiss and Michael tilted his head, tentatively brushing his tongue over Damien's bottom lip. Damien pulled in a quick breath, his mouth opening as Michael's did as well. Their tongues touched, sliding against each other's and they both groaned softly at the first taste of one another.

 

The sound of clapping around them pulled them abruptly from the kiss. Damien looked dazed, and Michael knew his expression mirrored his partner's.

 

The noise intruded once again and Michael finally turned his head to look around him, to see a handful of his Section 20 teammates smiling, laughing and applauding the show he and Damien had just put on for them.

 

Michael felt his face flush just as Damien barked out a laugh of his own. Michael looked back to his partner, who now had a smug, cocky grin on his face. Damien gave Michael a broad wink before grasping his upper arm and moving off in a quick walk, pulling Michael along with him.

 

The cheering grew louder behind them and the last thing Michael saw before Damien hurried them out of the hall was Julia, smiling and nodding at him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Michael remembered none of the taxi ride back to his home, his mind caught in a loop, replaying the kiss. The last thing he remembered was a quick phone call while Damien hailed the taxi and now here he was, standing at his front door.

 

Damien was a solid presence right behind him, nearly pressed up against his back, a hand on Michael's hip. He could feel the heat of Damien's body and he shivered, though not from the cold winter air.

 

He fumbled briefly with the key, finally getting the door unlocked and they stepped across the threshold, Damien closing the door behind them. Michael could see a soft glow coming from the living room and he smiled to himself, glad he had made his phone call. _Thank you, Mrs. McCarthy._ He owed his neighbor a special Christmas gift for her help.

Damien was at his back again, and a sudden jolt of nerves zinged through him, his stomach giving an uncharacteristic nervous flip as they moved into the living room. Michael had time to see the lights on the Christmas tree lit and glowing softly, along with a fire in the fireplace that was beginning to burn brightly before Damien turned him around. He saw deep emotion in Damien's piercing blue eyes, which hit him hard in his chest, as Damien pulled him in for another kiss.

 

The nervousness vanished at the touch of his lips against Damien's, replaced by a surge of desire, heat flooding through his body. He cupped the back of Damien's head with one hand as Damien's arms once again wound around him. Michael felt his partner's stubble against his face as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Damien's mouth opened eagerly under his and their tongues tangled sensuously together.

 

Michael couldn't suppress his groan as the kiss grew in intensity, his heart beating rapidly, a single thought running through his head—if this was the only night he would have with Damien, he wanted everything.

 

He pulled back from the kiss, his breathing shallow, his mouth tender. Damien was looking back at him with the same desire in his eyes, the same anticipation. Michael swallowed, placed a hand on Damien's chest and firmly pushed him back up against the wall next to the fireplace. Damien's eyes widened, then darkened at Michael's assertion of control. The corner of Damien's mouth twitched and he gave a short nod. "Fuck yeah…" he growled.

 

Michael moved in, kissing Damien hard, pressing his body fully against his partner's. Damien moaned, his hands coming around Michael to grip his ass, to hold him harder to him. Michael immediately felt Damien's heat, centered at his groin, and he shifted his hips, rubbing against his partner. His cock gave a hard twitch as Damien sucked in a quick breath.

 

Michael broke the kiss. He needed Damien naked. Now.

 

A flood of arousal surged through him, but he resisted the urge to simply pull the clothes from Damien's body. His fingers went to the buttons on Damien's uniform and loosened them one by one until the shirt was open and he pushed it down and off his shoulders and arms. His hands slid up past Damien's hips, under his pale green uniform t-shirt, his fingers brushing against warm, firm skin. He pushed the material up, exposing Damien's chest little by little, which rose and fell in short movements. He caught his partner's gaze as he swept the shirt up and over his head and arms, saw how his slow seduction was clearly affecting him.

 

Michael ran his hands up Damien's bare chest, brushing over the soft, dark hair, across the firm muscles of his pecs, rubbing his thumbs against his flat, dusky nipples. Damien jerked and bit his bottom lip. Michael let a slow smile cross his face as he dipped his head, his tongue flicking out across one of the small nubs. Damien groaned this time and Michael licked again, firmer this time, before sucking on the nipple. Damien gasped, one of his hands falling heavily onto Michael's head, trying to press him harder against his chest. Michael laved the nub with his tongue, sucking until it was pebble hard, then grazing it with his teeth as he pulled back. Damien jerked again at the stimulation, trying to keep Michael in place.

 

But Michael raised his head, grasping Damien's wrist and bringing it up and over his head. He did the same with Damien's other wrist, pressing them against the wall and holding them there with firm pressure, a silent command.

 

Damien swallowed hard at Michael's reminder of who was in charge. "Fuck…" he breathed once more, and didn't lower his arms when Michael let go.

 

Michael captured Damien's mouth for a hard, swift kiss before he dropped to his knees in front of his partner. He pulled off Damien's shoes and socks, then unbuckled his belt. He looked up at Damien as he slowly lowered the zipper on his uniform pants, saw his partner straining to keep his hands against the wall. The feeling of being in control was heady, and Michael's pulse thrummed.

 

He grasped the waistband of both Damien's pants and tight, black boxer briefs and eased the material over Damien's hips and down his legs. Michael's breath stuttered at the sight of Damien completely naked before him, his toned, muscular body on display.

 

And Michael wanted to touch and taste every inch of it.

 

He leaned forward, his first destination the large, intricate tattoo on Damien's side. He'd glimpsed the top half of it whenever he'd seen Damien without his shirt on and he'd ached to see the entire design, to run his tongue over the fine lines. Which he did now, tasting Damien's skin as his tongue swirled over the pattern. His hands rose up, fingers seeking out Damien's nipples once more, rolling and tugging on them.

 

Damien shifted restlessly against the wall at Michael's dual stimulation, small groans escaping him as Michael's mouth and fingers continued dancing over him. Michael sat back on his heels, his hands dropping down to Damien's hips, holding on and stilling Damien's movement. This time Damien's groan was one of frustration and Michael let a sly smile cross his face before turning his attention back to Damien's body.

 

His gaze dropped down, past Damien's chest, abs and navel, his eyes following the thin trail of dark hair to Damien's cock. Even semi-hard, it was thick, the head beginning to swell. Michael leaned in closer, inhaling Damien's warm scent that was uniquely his own, once again feeling the heat radiating from his partner's body. His hands flexed on Damien's hips and Damien hummed in encouragement.

 

Unable to resist any longer, Michael opened his mouth and took Damien inside.

 

"Fuck!" Damien cried out, his head knocking back against the wall. "Jesus _Christ_ …"

 

His partner's most intimate taste exploded across his tongue and Michael groaned, immediately echoed by Damien above him. Michael sucked, swirling his tongue around Damien's length and over the head. He was rewarded with a throb and a small burst of precome that coated his tongue. Michael groaned again at the slightly salty taste and he swallowed eagerly, sucking harder. Damien's cock grew in his mouth, steel wrapped in silk, lengthening and hardening as he bobbed his head. Michael's own cock filled inside the confines of his briefs, pressing against the material.

 

Damien's body was tense beneath his hands as his partner struggled to remain still. Michael could hear his quick, panting breaths intermixed with small moans. Michael pressed his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves underneath the swollen head and Damien gasped.

 

"Mike… _please_ …" he whispered hoarsely.

 

Taking pity on his partner, Michael let Damien's cock slip wetly from his mouth and rose smoothly to his feet. He kissed Damien hard, letting his partner taste himself before stepping back.

 

"On the sofa," he told Damien, his voice dropping.

 

Damien swallowed, lowering his arms to his side, his expression one of pure arousal as he stepped out of the pile of his clothes and crossed the room in a few steps. He sat on the sofa as Michael instructed, slouching down and spreading his legs wide.

 

Michael stepped closer, standing in front of Damien and began slowly undressing. Damien's hand drifted to his cock and he slowly fisted himself, the heat in his eyes burning hotter than the fire behind Michael with each piece of clothing he removed.

 

Finally naked, Michael forced himself not to touch his own cock, hanging heavy between his legs. He was already on edge and he wanted this night to last as long as possible. So instead he sank to his knees once again between Damien's legs, pushing his partner's hand off his cock and replacing it with his mouth.

 

Damien's head dropped against the back of the sofa with a sharp exhale, his hands coming to rest on either side of Michael's head. Michael let them remain, concentrating on driving Damien to the brink. He took Damien's length as far down his throat as he could then swallowed around it. Damien's hips jerked and he did it again before hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard as he pulled nearly all the way off of his cock. He sank down again, bobbing his head, his tongue caressing, swirling over the head, dipping into the slit. He hummed and Damien moaned, his cock releasing a stream of precome down Michael's throat. He hummed again and felt Damien's cock throb hard against his tongue. Then Damien's hands were pushing against Michael's shoulders.

 

"Mike…Mike…wait…not yet…not yet…" Damien rambled, pleading, voice gruff.

 

Michael sucked hard once more and pulled off of Damien's cock, then surged up his partner's body, sealing his mouth to Damien's for a bruising kiss, their mouths slanting against each other's, tongues doing battle. Michael tugged Damien off the sofa and down to his knees in front of him. Damien's hands immediately roamed over Michael's bare skin as the kiss continued and Michael had no desire to take control again and make his partner stop.

 

Damien's fingers raised gooseflesh where they trailed, down Michael's back, over the swell of his ass and Michael moaned softly at his touch. Damien broke the kiss this time, his lips moving to the side of Michael's neck, mouthing and licking down to the top of Michael's shoulder. He crouched down lower and his mouth found one of Michael's nipples.

 

Turnabout was fair play, and it was Michael's turn to arch into the stimulation, his fingers threading through Damien's short, dark hair as his sensitive nipple was sucked and played with, shooting jolts of pure pleasure straight down to his cock.

 

With a final nip to the tiny bud, Damien rose back up on his knees and claimed Michael's mouth as his hand wandered lower to wrap around Michael's uncut cock. Damien's kiss swallowed down Michael's sharp groan as his partner stroked him quickly. Michael felt himself release a stream of precome and the first, sharp stirrings of his orgasm begin in his heavy balls. But he wasn't ready. Not yet. Not like this. He wanted to be buried inside Damien when he finally came.

 

Asserting control again, Michael moved Damien away and turned him around, still on his knees, placing Damien's hands on the sofa cushions. Damien threw him a heated look over his shoulder as Michael draped himself over Damien's back, soaking in his partner's warmth. He kissed down the long column of Damien's neck, Damien leaning into the touch, his eyes sliding closed. Michael's mouth moved over Damien's broad shoulders as one arm wrapped diagonally across Damien's chest, his other hand dropping down between Damien's legs.

 

He stroked Damien long and slow as he slipped his own rock hard cock between Damien's ass, pushing against his balls and the hidden, puckered muscle of his entrance, telegraphing his need.

 

Damien shuddered and pressed his hips back against Michael's cock and forward into his grip. "Fuck, yeah…" he exhaled harshly, his hands curling into the cushions as he repeated the motion several times.

 

Then he was straightening up, taking Michael with him. He reached up and back with one hand, turning his head as he turned Michael's, bringing Michael's mouth to his for a demanding kiss, while his other hand reached back to cup Michael's ass, urging Michael's short thrusts between his ass.

 

"Do it, Mike…want it…fuck, I want it…want you…" Damien breathed against Michael's lips.

 

Michael's cock was achingly, painfully hard, the head slick with clear precome, his heart pounding, his head spinning with the thought of being inside Damien—when he suddenly froze. Oh fuck. He hadn't thought this through. He didn't have—

 

Damien's face was flushed, his eyes glassy. "My wallet," he panted, reading Michael's mind.

 

Michael moved quickly over to Damien's discarded pants, finding the Santa hat half sticking out of one back pocket, his wallet in the other. Michael pulled it out as Damien tugged the thick quilt off the arm of the sofa and draped it on the floor over the plush rug in front of the hearth.

 

Michael flipped open the wallet, searching…there, tucked in a small pocket were two packs of lube. He withdrew the them and tossed the wallet back down to the floor. He turned and his breath caught in his throat at the sight before him—Damien on his back, bathed in the glow of the firelight, knees bent, feet flat on the floor, legs spread wide, cock lying heavily on his stomach.

 

"Damien…" he whispered thickly.

 

Damien reached out to him, his blue eyes ablaze. "Need you, Mike…"

 

Michael shivered at the openness, the vulnerability and the absolute trust he heard in Damien's voice. He was across the room in a heartbeat, dropping down between Damien's legs and lowering himself down onto his partner's body. He poured into his kiss all of the emotions he couldn’t put into words.

 

Damien held Michael tightly and returned the kiss, which quickly grew in intensity, their bodies now moving against each other's, cocks rubbing and sliding together. Just as Michael's arousal reached a fever pitch, Damien pulled back from the kiss, nodding, his own arousal written clearly on his face.

 

Michael rose to his knees and tore open one of the packets. He coated the fingers of his right hand with the clear, semi-thick liquid and moved them between Damien's legs, down past his heavy balls until they found the puckered muscle. Damien arched his neck as Michael slipped one finger inside.

 

"Yeah…" Damien whispered.

 

Michael stretched his partner quickly but carefully, until Damien was pushing down onto both his fingers, trying to get them deeper.

 

"Now, Mike…" he ground out.

 

Michael nodded, withdrew his fingers and opened the second packet of lube, which he coated his cock with. He leaned over Damien's body, propping himself up on his left hand, and guided his cock to Damien's entrance. He paused then, holding Damien's steady gaze for a long heartbeat before slowly pushing inside him.

 

Michael's sharp groan mixed with Damien's, and he was instantly, completely overwhelmed, at a loss to describe what he was feeling at this first, most intimate joining. Damien's body gripped him in tight heat, pulling him in inch by inch. By the time he eased himself fully inside his partner his heart was stammering a staccato beat, his breathing just as erratic, sensations tumbling through him faster than he could identify.

 

He could feel a tremor racing under Damien's skin, his blue eyes gone wide and dark. He was more open and unguarded than Michael had ever seen him and it touched Michael deeply, his chest constricting.

 

"Damien…" he whispered, voice high and tight, just as his partner reached for him.

 

"Mike…"

 

Their mouths met as their bodies began to move together in an ages-old rhythm, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the soft glow from the tree.

 

Michael withdrew until just the swollen head of his cock remained inside of Damien, then pushed smoothly back in, over and over, driving them both higher and higher toward the top of the cliff.

 

Too aroused and on edge from their extended foreplay, Michael knew this first time would never last as long as he wanted it to. Just as he felt his orgasm curling low in his belly, Damien pulled back from their kiss, his body straining against Michael's, the firelight playing light and shadow over his naked skin, the sight intoxicating. He wrapped his legs around Michael's waist, arching his back, his fingers digging into Michael's sides.

 

"Faster, Mike…harder…" he pleaded roughly. "Go deeper…"

 

And Michael did, changing his angle of penetration, searching for the spot inside Damien that would make him shatter. He wanted nothing more than to watch Damien fall apart in his arms, then follow him off the cliff.

 

One, two, hard thrusts and Damien shook beneath him. His head pressed into the blanket, his mouth falling open, hoarse words tumbling out as Michael continued to thrust.

 

"Right there…fuck, right there…don't stop…don't stop…oh fuck, Mike, I'm gonna—"

 

And with a harsh cry, Damien came, long and hard, pure ecstasy shining from his eyes. Michael watched in erotic fascination as Damien's cock jerked and pulsed, long white streams of his release painting his stomach and chest.

 

The sight, sound and feel of Damien shattering was Michael's undoing. Damien's body constricted around his cock, sending Michael's orgasm racing up his spine like lightning. With a shout of Damien's name, Michael spilled himself into his partner with long pulses. Damien moaned beneath him, arching his neck as Michael filled him with the slick, wet heat of his release, tightening his legs around Michael's waist, trying to pull him in even further.

 

Michael was lightheaded with the force of his climax, his body tingling, hypersensitive from the constant stimulation. Breathing hard, his heart pounding, his arms started to tremble. Damien reached for him and he went willing down into his partner's arms, still intimately joined.

 

Shaken by how powerful making love to Damien had been, Michael tried to put his feelings into words but failed, unable to speak past the emotion constricting his throat. But one look into Damien's soft blue eyes and words didn't matter. Their tender kiss spoke silent volumes.

 

Loathe to break their connection, Michael remained inside of Damien as long as he could, wrapped in his partner's arms, until his softened cock finally slipped from Damien's body.

 

They both sighed at the loss, then turned to lay on their sides, facing each other. Damien used a corner of the quilt to clean their chests and stomachs, then pulled Michael closer. They kissed lazily, hands roving softly over bare skin until glowing embers were all that remained of the fire. Michael rose then, and led them naked upstairs to his bedroom.

 

The bright moonlight reflecting off of the snow on the ground streamed in through the window, bathing the room in shades of white and blue. Michael moved to the bed, pulled back the blankets and slipped under them, the sheets cool against his skin. But then Damien's heat was there as his partner spooned up behind him, molding his body around Michael's. He draped an arm loosely over Michael's hip and around his waist and nuzzled his face against the back of Michael's neck, his stubble tickling against Michael's skin.

 

Michael watched the snow falling outside the window and listened to Damien's soft, relaxed breathing. Lying here now in the dark and the quiet, Michael faced the reality that his one night would soon be coming to an end. He had told himself one would be enough, and he didn't want to fool himself into thinking there could be another. Tell that to the tiny spark of hope inside him, though. But he had to know, one way or another, instead of lying here and wondering, waiting for Damien to slip from the bed without a word. He needed to know where he stood. Where they stood.

 

Even though they needed to be said, the words were sawdust in his mouth. He swallowed past the dryness and forced them out.

 

"Will you be here in the morning?"

 

He heard confusion in Damien's answer. "Of course I will. Why wouldn't—"

 

Damien cut himself off and Michael felt his partner's body go rigid. Then Damien was moving back and turning Michael over to face him. It was apparent from the look on Damien's face realization had dawned and he now clearly understood the reason Michael had asked.

 

"Jesus, Mike," he breathed. "Is that why you…? Because you thought…?"

 

Michael swallowed again, tried to keep his voice flat and neutral. "I've seen how you are with women. And I knew I was going to want more than just one night with you. But I didn’t believe you'd want more than that."

 

Damien shook his head. "I'll admit I like a good time, no-strings attached. And that's how it was with the women when we first met." His voice softened. "But when I realized I was falling for you and tried to get close to you, you'd pull away. So then the women were _because_ of you, Mike. Substitutes because I thought I couldn't have you." Damien huffed out a laugh. "Jesus. How fucking stupid have we been?"

 

As Damien's words sunk in, Michael stared at him in disbelief, realizing it had been a vicious cycle they had been unconsciously perpetuating, keeping themselves from one another.

 

Before Michael could form a reply, Damien leaned in close, gently cupping the side of Michael's face. His words were strong and steady.

 

"Listen to me when I say that now that I'm finally here, I'm not going anywhere."

 

His kiss made Michael believe it.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**DECEMBER 25**

 

Soft, early morning sunlight against his eyelids pulled Michael gently from sleep. He blew out a relaxed breath and blinked open his eyes—to find the space next to him empty.

 

A crushing wave of hurt, disappointment and sadness swept over Michael, a heavy weight settling deep in his chest. He squeezed his eyes closed and clenched his jaw, berating himself for falling for Damien's promise. It was his own fucking fault. He should have known better.

 

The creak of a floorboard had him opening his eyes. There in the doorway stood Damien, wearing only the Santa hat and his tight black boxer briefs, a red bow from the tree attached strategically to the front of them. He was smirking at Michael, his blue eyes dancing, teasing.

 

"Merry Christmas, Mikey," he winked, pushing his hips forward. "Ready to open your present?"

 

Michael pulled in a shaky breath, the weight lifting from his chest and dissipating into the morning light.

 

His answering smile was brighter than the star on the top of the Christmas tree.

 

**THE END**


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